


Diplomacy Happens At Night

by antivanarmada



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Mutual Pining, adaar is strong and beautiful but she cannot flirt with girls to save her life, smut down the road
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-03-03 16:59:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13345557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antivanarmada/pseuds/antivanarmada
Summary: Haven is destroyed, Corypheus is Maker knows where, and the furthest thing from Inquisitor Ellarin Adaar's mind is a vacation. But when an intriguing offer of political alliance forces her on a diplomatic mission weeks away from Skyhold, it only makes sense that the Inquisition's best and brightest ambassador goes with her. Hijinks ensue.





	1. Chapter 1

 

Ellarin Adaar was perched on her bed wrapping up an injury when she heard the tinny, familiar trilling of the meeting signal calling her to the war table. Eyes darting up, she watched as the ceiling bell over her desk shook back and forth as it rang. She wondered absentmindedly which one of Leliana’s people was at the other end of the cable setting the alarm, and where in Skyhold they were. Did they even know that the wire they were tugging at led to the Inquisitor’s quarters? Unlikely.

 

The bell rang five times before quieting. Ellarin appraised her arm and sighed, grimacing slightly as she ripped off the end of the bandage and tied it in a knot, flexing to test how much it hurt. She’d definitely had worse, although the shot of pain that ran to her elbow made her wince all the same. Still, she hardly had time to moan about it. She hopped onto the floor and went to go find her boots before descending the stairs and entering the main hall.

 

The throne room was empty. Which was exactly what Leliana had counted on when she called the meeting, undoubtedly. It was past midnight, and no one had much reason to be around; most were either in the bar or in their own quarters by now. Unless it was urgent, Ellarin almost never met with her advisers during the daytime anymore. Not that it had always been like that. At the start of things - when they were still in Haven, when they were all blissfully unaware of Corypheus and his maddening bullshit - Ellarin and the others gathered much more openly. They would huddle in their small Chantry storage room at all hours of the day and try desperately to wring some sense out of the civil war, the Breach, each other, whatever. But that was before. Haven was gone, and so was that naïve sense of security. Meetings were called by Leliana now at seemingly random hours and days, using the alarms set up in each adviser’s room to summon them when it was time. It limited the chance of an ambush, she said. Better to keep the spies guessing than let them know exactly when all the heads of the Inquisition were in one room together.

 

Ellarin cast a glance over her shoulder to make sure that she wasn’t being followed before walking through the side door that led to Josephine’s office, ducking slightly to keep her horns from scraping on the doorframe. Closing the door behind her, her eyes wandered to Josephine’s desk in the corner of the room. The ambassador wasn’t there, and hadn’t been for some time, it seemed. The candles at her desk were out and the fire was dead. That fact gave Ellarin no small amount of comfort - Josephine had pulled more than a few all-nighters in the past, poring over trade manifests and offers of alliance until she couldn’t see straight. She didn’t often let on how tired she was, of course. But the Inquisition didn’t have a diplomatic corps, and there was no hiding just how much Josephine needed help. Ellarin wished that she could do more, but her talents fell more on the side of breaking bones than peacefully negotiating with grandstanding nobles. If Josephine ever needed a teryn forcibly removed from Skyhold, she knew who to call.

 

Josephine’s desk was a mess with papers and maps scattered all across its face. Ellarin resisted the temptation to peek at what Josephine had been writing. The last thing she needed was to be caught snooping through her ambassador’s things. Instead, she pressed on towards the war room. The large wooden doors groaned as she pushed them open.

 

Josephine was standing by the window inside, looking out with her arms wrapped around herself. She turned when she heard the door open, a warm smile spreading across her face as she saw Ellarin enter the room. “Good evening, my lady Inquisitor,” she said. Formal as ever, even at this hour. She hadn’t been resting after all like Ellarin had hoped  - her hair and makeup was still impeccable and she looked wide awake.

 

Ellarin greeted her, stupidly grateful that it was just the two of them here. Their respective chambers were closer to the war room than Leliana and Cullen’s, so they were often the first to arrive. Ellarin cherished these brief moments more than she was comfortable admitting, even to herself.  “Any idea why we’re meeting today?” she asked. “Or tonight, I guess. Have we received word from Hawke?”

 

Josephine shook her head. “No on both counts, I’m afraid. I’m certain that - oh!” She trailed off as she noticed the bandage around Ellarin’s arm. “You’re injured.”

 

“It’s nothing,” Ellarin said quickly, although looking down she could see fresh spots of blood soaking through the white of the gauze. “Hardly noticeable.”

 

“And yet here I am, noticing it,” Josephine said lightly. She took a tentative step forward, hand slightly raised. “May I?”

 

“If you want.”

 

Josephine crossed the room and brought her hand up to trace along the edge of the bandage. She undid the knot tying it around Ellarin’s bicep before peeking at the wound underneath. She shuddered as she saw the cut. “Wherever did you get this? I don’t remember you being hurt this morning.”

 

Ellarin shrugged and watched as Josephine’s fingers quickly worked to wrap the dressing back around her bicep before tying it tighter than before. “Evening drinks and impromptu sparring practice with Bull in the tavern turned out about how I should have expected.”

 

“He cut you this deeply?” Josephine asked, shock painting her voice.

 

“No, he shoved me through a window after I flipped him over a table,” she replied breezily. “Some glass nicked my arm on the tumble down. It was all in good fun.”

 

“You and I have very different definitions of ‘fun,’ Inquisitor.”

 

“It’s _Ella,”_ she said. “Or Ellarin. Or Adaar, at least. Why do you insist on calling me everything but my name?”

 

She hadn’t meant for her rebuff to sound as terse as it did, but what else was new? Josephine looked up at her apologetically, hand still resting on Ellarin’s arm despite being finished with readjusting the bandage. “Forgive me, it’s simply a habit. I don’t mean to offend.”

 

“I know you don’t,” Ellarin said, a small smile flickering at the corners of her mouth. Because when was Josephine ever _trying_ to offend anyone? She was smotheringly civil by nature. Which was perhaps why Ellarin was so fond of her - she had never met anyone who made such an effort to be kind. It was a charming quality, and not anything she was much used to in her life before. “Don’t worry about it. You can call me what you like.”

 

Josephine was about to say more, but pulled back as the chamber’s double doors creaked open. Cullen shuffled in, shirt untucked from his trousers and stifling a yawn.

 

“I had just gotten to sleep, you know,” he grumbled.

 

Leliana followed behind him moments later, eyes clear and expression inscrutable as always. She had a leather binder tucked underneath her arm, and she began to lay out some of its contents on the table without any preamble. There was a bevy of documents - letters, from the look of them - and a small cloth pouch that she placed next to them.

 

“We’ve received an interesting proposition,” she said, sorting out the papers in front of her.

 

Josephine went to stand next to her and regarded one of the letters. “Interesting in what way? Is that...Tevinter heraldry?”

 

“Tevinter heraldry and the seal of a Tevinter magister,” Leliana replied. “More than one, in fact. Over the past month we’ve receive five such letters from different members of the Magisterium.”

 

Josephine frowned, clearly troubled that a political matter had gone without her attention for so long. “A _month?_ Why am I only just seeing these now?”

 

“I wanted to confirm their authenticity first before bothering you with it.”

 

“Which you’ve done, then?” Cullen asked.

 

“I have. These are genuine. Although what we do with them is up to Inquisitor Adaar.”

 

Ellarin looked at Leliana warily, already tired of having to make the big decisions that no one else wanted to. “So what do they say?”

 

“They’re proposing an alliance.”

 

Cullen scoffed and crossed his arms. “They can’t be serious.”

 

“It seems that they are, Commander.”

 

“Didn’t we just lop off the head of one of their magisters?” he insisted. “Alexius was a bastard, but I doubt it won us any favors among his colleagues.”

 

"Politics in Tevinter are even more cutthroat than in Orlais. Just because these magisters knew Alexius doesn't mean they cared about him or mourned his passing."

 

Josephine cleared her throat. “I apologize, Leliana, but I don’t quite understand why they sent this to you at all. Offers of allyship go through me. There are official channels for all of this.”

 

“This was sent to me precisely because these magisters wish to _avoid_ official channels, Josie,” Leliana said. “They are asking for a secret partnership, completely out of the public record. They have no love for the Inquisition and have all publicly condemned us in the past. The last thing they want is to be seen cooperating with us.”

 

Ellarin could already feel her shoulders beginning to tense as Leliana spoke. This is exactly why she wasn’t cut out to be Inquisitor - these mind games and political maneuvers were beyond her ability to take seriously. “And what do these magisters want from us?”

 

“Help closing rifts along their border with Nevarra primarily. But they also request we send them regular updates about our campaign against Corypheus and any information we find about him, as well as a pledge of monetary support if the Qunari attempt to attack Minrathous before Corypheus has been killed.”

 

Cullen looked as if the offer had personally slapped him across the face. “That’s beyond preposterous. Closing rifts is one thing, but sharing private Inquisition intelligence? And our coffers can hardly keep up with our own needs, let alone Tevinter’s.”

 

“I agree,” Leliana said plainly. “It’s a ridiculous request and they know it. This isn’t the final agreement, simply something to grab our attention and bring us to the negotiating table. Surely you know that the first proposition is never the one actually agreed to.”

 

“So they send us ridiculous offers and we come running? Josephine, you can’t possibly want to do business with Tevinter.”

 

Josephine stared at the north section of the map on the war table as she thought, brows furrowed. “I’m not sure we’re in any position to refuse an offer of help. Our support among the people is growing, but it's not enough. I’m wary of turning anyone away as it stands.”

 

Cullen grimaced, looking to Ellarin for help. Of the four of them, he knew they she was the one who most shared his distaste for politics and intrigue. “Your thoughts, Adaar?”

 

“I can’t say I love it so far,” she said, using the blunt affectation that had earned her the nickname _Grouchy_ from Varric. “I don’t trust Tevinter and I still haven’t heard what we’re supposed to be getting in return.”

 

“They haven’t said,” Leliana answered. “They’re likely unwilling to put it down on paper.”

 

“So then what - they want to discuss it in person? They’re coming to Skyhold?”

 

“They do want to meet in person, but not here.” Leliana handed her the small pouch that had been included with the letters. “A few of them are coming with a small attaché of negotiators to meet you halfway in Cumberland. You’re meant to bring that with you as a sign of good faith and so that they can identify you, although you’re not particularly hard to miss.”

 

Ellarin opened the pouch and pulled out a gold band with bright bluish white markings etched into it. They were warm to the touch. Lyrium? It was obviously meant for a human’s finger, but it was pretty all the same. Looking further in the pouch, she saw another identical ring.

 

“There’s two in here,” she said, looking up at Leliana.

 

“For your guest. They ask that you bring one other person of your choosing to help in the negotiations.”

 

Cullen placed his palms on the table and leaned forward, his voice clipped. “You’re not seriously suggesting that the Inquisitor abandon her duties here to walk into what is seeming more and more like an ambush with every detail? How is one other person supposed to protect her?”

 

“If you think I would truly send her there without aid, then you woefully underestimate me, Commander. My agents will arrive in the city before she does. But yes, for appearance’s sake she would need to appear to be alone.”

 

Ellarin watched Josephine’s face, trying to gauge her reaction. Her brows were still knit together, lips slightly pursed as she continued to look at the map. She was being quieter than usual. “Josephine?” she asked softly. “What do you think?”

 

Snapping out of her thoughts, Josephine looked Ellarin squarely in the face. “I think you should go. To begin to build positive relationships with Tevinter, even in secret...we must at least try. So much could be gained.”

 

“Not you too,” Cullen said with a sigh. “Aren’t things a bit too delicate right now to be packing up and leaving?”

 

“Not necessarily,” Leliana supplied. “Empress Celene’s peace talks aren’t for another month, and we’ve heard nothing new from Corypheus since the Western Approach. Cumberland's a port city and it's only a week by ship from Jader. If things go smoothly the Inquisitor could go straight to Halamshiral from the negotiations. Relatively speaking, now is a good time for her to go.”

 

All eyes looked to Ellarin then, as they always did when it became clear that nothing more would be decided through talking. She knew that she could let her advisors talk for hours and they would still be where they were now - Cullen would never like it, Josephine would always want to try, and Leliana obviously wanted her there too. Ellarin sighed and rolled the ring between her fingers.

 

“I’ll leave in three days,” she said. Her tone was firm, making her sound more confident in her decision than she truly was. “I need to be briefed on exactly who to expect and what we’re willing to give, but okay. We can try this.”

 

Leliana nodded. “Very well, Inquisitor. As far as your escort, I have an agent in mind who’s perfect for the job. He’s from Cumberland and-”

 

“No,” Josephine cut in. “I’ll be going.”

 

No one said anything for a moment, clearly taken aback by Josephine’s interruption.

 

Cullen spoke up first. “Are you sure about that? You haven’t left Skyhold once since we’ve gotten here. That’s a while to be away from your work.”

 

“I’m quite sure. I’m the Inquisition’s ambassador and I should be there. I wouldn’t trust anyone else with this.” Her eyes flashed up to Ellarin’s with an unfamiliar intensity. “Unless you would prefer to bring another,  my lady Adaar?”

 

“No,” Ellarin said quietly. “Not at all.”

 

All in all, it was one of Ellarin’s more interesting war table meetings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can find me procrastinating at https://palisadesucks.tumblr.com/


	2. Chapter 2

Skyhold was an interesting place. Perched high in the mountains in the middle of the inhospitable frozen wilds, it hardly served as an ideal travel destination. It wasn’t somewhere that people tended to stumble upon; if you were there, it was because you meant to be. With Haven gone, it was at least three days of slow travel in biting cold before you could reach another speck of civilization. And in that vein, Skyhold also wasn’t somewhere people were often in a hurry to leave. Past the high stone walls and the crumbling towers, there was a charm to the place that pulled visitors in. You couldn’t help but feel safe there, and more than a little bit removed from the world beyond. Surveying the courtyard or walking the barricades, it was hard at times for Ellarin to conceptualize all the places on the edges of her maps that stretched across the war table. The Storm Coast and the Dales and the Hissing Wastes seemed like little more than made up places without any tether to reality.

 

Ellarin had always been a traveller at heart - the mercenary lifestyle had suited her well in that regard - but leading the Inquisition was an entirely different animal. After months of hard travel and even harder fighting, she ached for the chance to rest. If not to set down roots, at least to catch a breath and start building some semblance of a normal life. Or as close to normal as she was likely to get, at least. Ellarin accepted that the anchor in her hand and her prowess in battle necessitated her constant trips from Skyhold, and she would never let anyone know just how much the role of Inquisitor wore on her, but she could feel herself tiring all the same.

 

The fighting was one thing, and something she knew well. You didn’t get to command a unit within the Valo-Kas without knowing your way around a blade. But even then, she was one of many. She had her _own_ commanders and plenty of freedom in that life. Not in the Inquisition. Every move she made was measured, watched, judged. Thousands of lives hung on her words, and it was a weight she felt with terrifying intensity. She would have likely gone mad from it all by now if it weren’t for the small things that kept her grounded: The familiar burning at the back of her throat as she knocked back liquor with Bull. The occasional letter from Shokrakar, riddled with filthy expletives and old jokes. Early mornings on the ramparts with Cullen, swapping stories of how they got their scars and trying to decide which recruits showed promise.

 

And Josephine. Josephine more than anything. The crackling of her fire as Ellarin hovered in the doorway and caught glances of her working. The warm, lilting tone of her voice as she lectured about noble families and treaties in the war room. The subtle scent of her perfume, floral with a hint of spice, that lingered in the air after she walked past.

 

As Ellarin paced around her bedroom, trying to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything, she realized that she’d probably be smelling that perfume a lot in the coming weeks. The three day deadline had come, and today she and Josephine were set to leave Skyhold. She wasn’t given to nerves before a mission - she had spent more time away from Skyhold than she’d spent in it, after all. But this mission was undoubtedly different, and she was feeling it now.

 

This journey was couched in more secrecy she was used to, for one. No one beyond her advisers, some of Leliana’s people, and a select few companions knew where Ellarin was really setting out to. The rest had been told that she and Josephine were attending to a delegation of visiting Montilyets who were bringing news of a trading opportunity. One of the patriarchs was too frail to make the journey to Skyhold, they had explained, and Josephine was coming along to see her family. Certainly no one could fault her for that. And so as far as most were concerned, the Inquisitor and Josephine would simply be in the Coastlands entertaining the Montilyets while they waited for contracts to arrive from Antiva. It was a good enough ruse, and one that would hopefully hold while they were away.

 

And of course, things were different on this mission for another, more obvious reason. Josephine would be there. _Just_ Josephine. Leliana had her people, and they would be watching from afar in case of trouble, but it was just going to be Ellarin and Josephine more often than not for two weeks at the very least. That was a long time. No one would ever mistake Ellarin for an extrovert, but she was proud of the easy relationships she had managed to build with some members of her personal team. Cassandra, Bull, Varric, Blackwall, Vivienne - they had all, somehow, become her friends since she had stumbled upon them. She no longer batted an eye at pulling any of them for missions that would take them away from Skyhold three or four weeks at a time. But Josephine wasn’t like that. She practically lived behind her desk, and other than the traumatizing pilgrimage from the wreckage of Haven to Skyhold, they had never gone anywhere _together_ before. As such, Ellarin had failed to build up a casual rapport with her. She bonded with people best when they were bashing skulls or getting drunk together, and Josephine wasn’t ever included in any of that. She was too pretty, too proper, too...soft for Ellarin to find any foundation to build a real friendship on. Her life didn’t match with Ellarin’s at all, but now it would have to. Somehow.

 

Sighing, Ellarin decided that she’d already packed everything she could think of. She travelled light by habit, and so other than her weapons she wasn’t bringing anything more than the armor she was wearing and the knapsack slung over her shoulder. She turned to her weapons, displayed high on weapon racks along her wall, and tried to decide which she wanted to bring. The barely noticeable sound of fabric swishing behind her pulled her attention and had Ellarin swivelling around in an instant, instinctually already gearing up for a fight. It was just Leliana though, coming to a stop at the top of the stairs, still apparently convinced that knocking was a waste of time.

 

She nodded towards Ellarin and placed a stack of papers on her chair. “Inquisitor. Adaar. Do you have a moment before you leave?”

 

“Of course.”

 

Leliana stepped further into the room but didn’t sit. She watched Ellarin with probing eyes, mouth drawn in a tight line. She looked even more guarded than usual, which was hard to do. “Puck left for Jader yesterday morning. He’ll meet you in the city when you arrive with all the details of the ship you’ll be on. More agents will be in Cumberland when you and Josie arrive at port, but Puck is your main point of contact. He’ll be on the ship with you, though he’s been instructed not to speak to you unless it’s absolutely necessary. To any observer, our lady ambassador is simply an anonymous wealthy woman travelling alone with her Tal-Vashoth bodyguard.”

 

They’d been over this before. Ellarin’s job was to keep her head down, follow Josephine around like a shadow, and not speak to anyone until they got to Cumberland. Somehow she didn’t imagine she’d have a problem with that.

 

“Thank you, Leliana. Will you be seeing us off?”

 

“No. I already said my goodbyes to Josie this morning. You were the last one I needed to speak with.”

 

“I understand. Is that your report?” she asked, pointing at the papers Leliana had set down.

 

“Yes. It’s a summary of everything I’ve already told you about the mission, as well as information I’ve received in the days since.”

 

“I’ll go over it as soon as I have time.”

 

“The report is quite detailed, but Puck has been fully briefed if you have any questions. And I’m told that Josie’s done a fair bit of research on her own.”

 

Ellarin nodded and looked at Leliana expectantly. It seemed like she had more she wanted to say, although Ellarin couldn’t guess what it was. “Well I should get down to the courtyard soon,” she hedged. “Unless you needed something else?”

 

Leliana clasped her hands behind her back before saying finally, “Josephine is my friend, Inquisitor. And I would not see her hurt.”

 

Ellarin’s stomach clenched uncomfortably as she tried to think of what to say in response. She wasn’t a person who often felt threatened - being nearly seven feet tall and covered in muscles certainly helped - but something about Leliana’s quiet, deadly, way of carrying herself had always left her entirely unwilling to test the spymaster’s bad side. For a brief moment, she was worried that she was about to get the same hellish speech she’d received from Leliana a month ago after she decided that Ellarin was being a bit too obvious with her pining. Something told her that Leliana was speaking about something else this time, however.

 

“I’ll protect her while we’re away,” was the best answer Ellarin could manage. “You know that.”

 

“Yes, should it come down to a fight I have faith that you can keep her safe. But that’s not what I was talking about.”

 

“Then what were you talking about?”

 

“Losing Haven shook Josephine, and she is desperate for a victory. As are we all. But she is also far more stubborn than many realize, and I need you to watch her.”

 

“Watch her how?”

 

“If the talks fail, or the magisters ask too much, you need to be prepared to walk away. Josie won’t want to, but you need to make sure that she’s ready to leave Cumberland having gained nothing.”

 

“Josephine’s used to dealing with difficult people,” Ellarin offered. There were plenty of times when a truce had been on the verge of breaking or a noble almost came out against them, only to have Josephine fix everything with a stroke of her pen.

 

“Calling these Tevinters ‘difficult’ is an understatement,” Leliana said firmly. “You will be meeting with Magisters Farrum, Gavenius, and Oratius. They all come from old families, and they are known for being especially cutthroat within the realm of Tevinter politics, even by their standards. Blackmail, kidnappings, blood magic, assassinations - they’re familiar with it all. Everything I know about them is in the report I’ve prepared.”

 

“I see. Concerns aside, I’m sure Josephine knows to be careful.”

 

“Josie knows Antiva, she knows Ferelden, and she knows The Game. But the rules of engagement are different in Tevinter, and it’s a sphere that she knows little about. Through no fault of her own, of course, but it’s why I did not want to send her originally. In her efforts to find the good in people - their _common ground,_ as she likes to say - she’s often more trusting than I would advise. That puts her at a disadvantage here. These people will pounce on any perceived vulnerability.”

 

“Then why did you agree to let her come?”

 

The ghost of a smile played at the corners of Leliana’s mouth at that. “As I said, she’s also stubborn. She wouldn’t let me stand in her way if I tried.”

 

Ellarin knew that the friendship between Leliana and Josephine was deep and ran back years. There was a level of familiarity between them that was enviable, and Josephine seemed to be the only person who could chip away at Leliana’s carefully constructed aloofness. Of course Leliana was worried. The only real friend she had in the Inquisition was running headlong into a pit of magisters.

 

“I trust Josephine to know how to take care of herself in the negotiations,” Ellarin said. “I wouldn’t be bringing her if I didn't. And you’re right that she’s trusting. But I’m not. The second I sense a trap or I feel like we’re wasting our time, we’re leaving. Josephine can shout at me all she wants on the journey home if she disagrees.”

 

“I might like to see that,” Leliana replied, her tone lightening ever so slightly. “I know you’ll be on your guard, Adaar. It’s simply my job to think about worst case scenarios.”

 

“And it’s my job to punch my way out of them.” Ellarin flexed the fingers of her Anchor hand and reached up to pull her sword from its mantle on the wall.

 

\---

 

Ellarin arrived in the courtyard soon after, greatsword swinging at her back. It was still midday, and they could still get a good number of hours in before nightfall. It was cold enough in the day, but when the sun went down it got even worse. Ellarin tended to run hot and didn’t mind the cold as much as others, but for Josephine’s sake she wanted to set out as soon as possible.

 

Josephine was standing by the coach she’d be riding in, speaking with Blackwall as he loaded luggage into the back. It was one of the few coaches they had on hand in Skyhold, borrowed from a trader who had come for a brief trading stop and decided to stay on permanently. There were two Orlesian Coursers tied to the front, padding at the ground with their hooves. The coach itself was four-wheeled and covered, with enough room in the front for two people to sit and guide the horses. Elaborate silks were drawn up around the wood paneling of the sides, making it seem more like they were about to embark on a noble’s day out than a clandestine political mission. Still, it suited Josephine. Ellarin preferred to travel on horseback and would be doing so for most of the trip on her own personal mount, but in all likelihood they wouldn’t be returning to Skyhold for at least a month. If Josephine was going to work from the road, she wouldn’t be able to pack light. She needed books, letters, maps, more clothes than she could carry on her back, that sort of thing. Josephine would be riding in the coach with their things while Ellarin brought up the front. It would slow down their speed, but it was necessary. Josephine wasn’t one of Ellarin’s ground troops or party members - it was important for her to feel comfortable and prepared for anything.

 

Blackwall grunted as he heaved a particularly heavy chest into the coach. He straightened up when he saw Ellarin approach and wiped his hands off before clapping her on the shoulder.

 

“Everything’s packed up for you, Ella. Can’t say I’ve ever seen you bringing books on a trip before. Planning on doing a little reading by candlelight?”

 

Ellarin gave the caravan a light kick and peered inside at the luggage stacked behind the seats. “Unless it’s one of Varric’s, no.”

 

Blackwall laughed and pulled Ellarin into a quick goodbye hug before waving goodbye to Josephine and walking off. He was one of the few who knew where they were actually going, and he clearly didn’t want to keep them chatting if it meant they would lose valuable time on the road. He was a good sort.

 

“I wasn’t aware you were one of Varric’s fans, my lady,” Josephine said, turning to face her.

 

“‘Fan’ is a bit much, but Cassandra got me into _Swords and Shields._ Largely against my will.”

 

Josephine smiled, always happy to hear a story that humanized the sentient battering ram that was Cassandra Pentaghast. “The Seeker _is_ rather fond of those books. I can’t say that I’ve ever read through them myself. Would you recommend them?”

 

“Absolutely not,” Ellarin said quickly. “The dialogue and plot are both terrible, and Varric will tell you so himself. I’m just reading it for the smut. I’m sure what you brought is a bit more highbrow.”

 

“Hardly,” Josephine said with a wave of her hand. “I didn’t bring much for my own amusement. Dorian was kind enough to pull some texts from the library to help me prepare for the talks. Various histories of Tevinter politics, records of certain major families of the Magisterium, analyses of the Tevinter Chantry’s customs, that sort of thing.”

 

“That sounds pretty highbrow to me.”

 

“You give me too much credit,” she demurred. She double checked the lock on the caravan and walked around to the front. Ellarin took her hand to help her up. “I must thank you again for allowing me to accompany you on this trip, Inquisitor. Even if I was rather impertinent in inviting myself.”

 

“I don’t mind,” Ellarin shrugged, privately noting that with Josephine perched on the carriage seat, this was maybe the first time they had ever been eye level. “Impertinent is good - I prefer for women to have a little backbone. And besides, I’m excited to see my ambassador in action.”

 

Josephine peered at Ellarin with bright eyes. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

 

“And no ‘Inquisitor’ on this trip, by the way. This is like a regular mission now, not an adviser’s meeting. No one in my party calls me Inquisitor in the field.”

 

“What do they call you, then?”

 

“It depends. First or last name is always a safe bet. ‘Boss’ if it’s Bull, ‘Grouchy’ if it’s Varric. And ‘Horny’ if it’s Sera.”

 

 _“What?”_ Josephine sputtered, bringing her hand up to her mouth to mask her laughter. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to laugh, but - what?”

 

Ellarin grinned and brought her finger up to tap at one of her horns, craning down slightly for emphasis. “On account of these,” she explained. “And because Sera can never resist a sex joke.”

 

Josephine’s giggles eventually petered off before she spoke. “I see. That’s clever of her, I suppose.”

 

“It’s really not.”

 

“No, it isn’t,” she agreed, smiling again. “And I won’t be calling you that.”

 

“I would be shocked if you did.”

 

Ellarin could feel the eyes of her soldiers on her as they continued to talk. It was rare to see Josephine outside of her office, and even rarer for the gruff and private Inquisitor to be openly smiling and making someone laugh. She didn’t mind the attention, not really, but it did remind her that they had other places to be. Places where she and Josephine - to everyone but the magisters - were just travellers with no connection to kings and empresses and Andraste. For all the danger ahead of them, it would be a welcome change. She was ready to go.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for the kudos from last chapter! I would love to hear from you if you're enjoying this so far


	3. Chapter 3

As her carriage pulled out of Skyhold, Josephine trained her eyes forward and tried to ignore the growing sense of disquiet that was taking root in her chest. She wanted to look back — to get one last glance of the mountain refuge that had inexplicably become her home. She wanted, almost childishly, to burn the retreating image of it into her mind so that she had something of comfort to mentally return to in the days ahead.  But she knew herself, and she knew that looking back would only make her sad. So instead she straightened her back, stared straight ahead, and pressed on. Just as she always had. Still, the loud metal grating of the portcullis closing behind her sent a shiver up her spine. It rung out with a much sharper sense of finality than she would have liked.

 

Josephine knew that she was being unreasonable; Skyhold and her work would still be there for her when she returned. Maker, would it ever. If she thought she was busy now, she could only imagine the avalanche of work that would be awaiting her when all this Tevinter business was finished. She had brought what she could in order to work from the road, but there was only so much she could get done away from her base of operations. Half of her job was simply to _be there._ As ambassador, she was meant to be the first face that visitors of note saw when they arrived and the one to bid them farewell as they left. She could certainly write and plan from the road, but who back at Skyhold could provide her level of personal care to the admittedly difficult set of nobles that tended to stroll about the castle as if they owned it?

 

No one who came to mind. Cullen and Cassandra were impressive, to be sure, but they lacked a certain level of approachability that Josephine had been hoping to see in a potential replacement. Cullen had no patience for the swooning comtesses that Josephine normally held at bay from him, and the last time a chevalier got smart with Cassandra over her Seeker ties, she drove him into the ground. Leliana was a non-starter. She was quite adept at playing the smiling bard when she wished to, but she had far too much on her plate now as it was. Luckily, Vivienne had offered to step in and fill Josephine’s shoes as the Inquisition’s diplomatic face for the time being. She was a bit sharper in her style of conversation than Josephine would have preferred, and some dignitaries would no doubt be offended at being received by a mage, but Vivienne knew her way around nobility as if she’d been born among them. She would be able to navigate the day to day of Josephine’s job without a problem.

 

Josephine sighed and watched as her breath puffed out in front of her face. There was snow on the wind, although if they were lucky it wouldn’t start falling in earnest until they were camped for the night. If one good thing came from this trip, it would at least be the chance to be somewhere warm for a change. Ferelden had many charming aspects to it, but the climate was not one of them.

 

Looking out at the expanse of snow and the almost implausible landscape of _nothingness_ ahead of her, Josephine couldn’t help but shake the feeling that she was travelling alone. She wasn’t, of course. Inquisitor Adaar was with her, even if she wasn’t in sight. She was travelling ahead, scouting for trouble and like. Josephine did her best to urge her horses forward to keep their paces more equitable, but it was a lost cause. Sometimes Josephine could just catch sight of her before she crested a hill or ducked into a wooded area, and then she would be lost again.

 

To keep herself busy, Josephine’s mind drifted back to her work. She had sent notices to many of her contacts informing them that she would be away, but her missives hadn’t reached everyone. Duke Forman was already en route to Skyhold; his meeting would no doubt suffer for not having Josephine around to discuss Nevarran literature with, but he could be assuaged with the right drink—a dry, oaky red, preferably more tannic than fruity. The bartender had been instructed accordingly. Senechal Avec wasn’t set to arrive until after Halamshiral’s talks, but his sister’s engagement had just been announced, and he would likely be looking to wrap up his business in the Frostback sooner than later. Vivienne would be perfectly capable of keeping Arlessa Bryton’s daughters entertained, but Josephine would be sad to miss them.

 

After a good span of time had passed, Josephine was grateful to see the Inquisitor’s form on the horizon again. Except this time, she was heading towards Josephine and not away from her. Josephine watched as she got closer, wondering if perhaps she was coming back because there was trouble ahead. It didn’t seem that way, at least not from the relatively leisurely pace that Ellarin was moving at. Perhaps she just meant to talk, then. That was hardly an unwelcome prospect. Josephine couldn’t help but watch Ellarin’s approaching figure with something not unlike admiration.

 

At risk of sounding too enamored, even just to herself, Josephine truly couldn’t think of a word to describe how Ellarin looked in that moment better than _resplendent._ She was in arguably her best armor — a heavy plate mail that was favored for dragon hunts. The Inquisition’s insignia was emblazoned across the breastplate, and the bright gold of the mail was offset by leather and cloth that had been dyed with deep reds and blues. Over top of it all was a long fur cloak that was pinned at her shoulder, the black of it posing a stark contrast to the snow collected on the ground. Ellarin would change into less conspicuous clothes when they reached civilization, but for now she travelled as she might have on any other mission. Dressed like that, Josephine would hardly have an issue spotting her if they were separated along the ride. Not that Ellarin was easy to miss when she was out of that armor, either. Her horns and height and muscles and...curves saw to that. Josephine had caught herself staring at her lady Inquisitor on more than one occasion when they were together at Skyhold, or simply when she was out and about and caught a glimpse of Ellarin as she passed by. She felt foolish for it, of course, but it was one of the few indulgences she was willing to allow herself. There was simply so much of Ellarin to look at.

 

Green recruits feared to cross her path, and many a Chantry-besotted visitor liked to whisper about the various violent aspects of the Inquisitor’s past, but Josephine had never felt anything but safe in her presence. Which was a blessing, because there was plenty about this trip that had the potential to make Josephine feel very _unsafe_.

 

Josephine raised a hand in greeting as Ellarin circled her horse around the carriage before pulling it up along the side. Ellarin pulled back on the reins lightly and let out a low whistle, slowing her pace to match the speed of Josephine’s carriage.

 

Ellarin’s mount was a wild looking thing: a white Mountain Dracolisk with stripes of grey running down its legs, neck, and torso. It was beautiful, in a terrifying and feral sort of way. Josephine had been present when it arrived in Skyhold originally — it had taken three stable boys to get it inside the corral, and even then they were nursing wounds from its bite for days. Even Master Dennet had kept his distance. But the beast had taken to the Inquisitor immediately, and quickly became the only mount that Ellarin would bring on a mission. She’d even gone so far as to give him the affectionate nickname of ‘Horse.’ With Ellarin as close as she was to the carriage, Josephine could better admire the scaled texture of the dracolisk’s skin and the imposing points of its fangs. Ellarin’s voice quickly drew Josephine’s attention higher up, however.

 

“How are you faring?” she asked, her voice ringing out clear over the jostling of the carriage and the footfalls of the horses. “The ride’s not too bumpy for you?”

 

“I’m quite alright,” Josephine answered. She was hardly a battle-weary soldier, but she knew how to sit back and steer a carriage.

 

“You’re sure?”

 

“Really, Inquisitor,” Josephine began before remembering the new rules for the trip and correcting herself. “Ellarin. The last time I was on this mountain I was in tattered clothes and fearing that an archdemon was going to fly overhead at any moment. This is a marked improvement.”

 

“An archdemon could still fly over your head, you know. I don’t think you can predict that sort of thing.”

 

“And is that supposed to make me feel better?” she teased.

 

Ellarin grinned ever so slightly. “Not really.”

 

Josephine found her eyes drawn to Ellarin’s mouth, captivated as always at the sight of those full lips curving into a smile. It was a rare enough sight, and one that she never took for granted. For all Ellarin’s strength and the fearsome nature of her reputation, Josephine found that she had the potential to look quite lovely and soft. When she was smiling, at least. She really did have a lovely mouth.

 

Aware that she was likely staring a bit too obviously, Josephine adjusted the heavy coat that was wrapped around her own shoulders and checked that her horses were still going on course before speaking again. “How much longer do you expect we’ll be travelling today?”

 

“It depends on you. We can stop now, if you’re tiring.”

 

“We’ve only just left! It can’t have been more than an hour, maybe two.”

 

“If we go at my pace, I’ll run you ragged,” Ellarin said bluntly. “I’m used to weeks on the road with hour long naps to keep me going. That’s not something I would ask of you. But I don’t know your limits, so I need you to tell me when you need to rest.”

 

Josephine wasn’t overly fond of that requirement, largely because she wasn’t sure she would ever feel comfortable admitting that she needed a break. How could she? It would be like confirming out loud that she wasn’t as competent as the companions Ellarin normally travelled with.

 

“I assure you that I’m more than able to keep going, my Lady. Isn’t there a base somewhere around here where you spend the night with your team sometimes?”

 

“The sawmill?” Ellarin asked. “It’s not really a base, just an old abandoned building one of our scouts found a while back. But yes, we do camp there sometimes. It keeps out the cold better than a tent will.”

 

“Then let’s plan to bed there for the night.”

 

Ellarin frowned, “That’s still a long ride from here, Josephine.”

 

“How long?”

 

“About nine hours with no stops.”

 

It was far longer than she had been expecting, but Josephine kept her face still, fully aware that Ellarin was watching her searchingly for any sign of weakness. It wasn’t malicious—if anything it was overly kind, seeing as she was simply trying to make sure that Josephine didn’t push herself too hard—but Josephine had no intention of giving this mission any less than her best. They had a ship to catch in Jader, and they weren’t going to miss it because she needed to be coddled. If the Inquisitor could ride through the snow for nine hours, she could certainly follow behind in her frilly carriage without complaints.

 

“Nine hours, then,” Josephine confirmed. “But please do let me know if _you_ need to rest.”

 

That barb earned her a full laugh, and Josephine thought for a very brief moment that she could get used to travelling like this. If it meant that she got to hear more of Ellarin’s laughter, anyway.

 

Ellarin regarded Josephine with what felt like a newfound bit of respect before muttering something under her breath about Leliana and stubbornness.

 

“What was that?”

 

“Nevermind. But here, take this before I forget.”

 

Ellarin dipped down to pull something from one of the pockets that had been sewn into her saddle. Josephine couldn’t quite make out what it was until Ellarin stretched out to bridge the space between her and the carriage and tossed it into Josephine's lap. It was a pair of gloves, made of dark brown leather with a with a pattern of golden chevrons wrapping around the wrists. There was a thin fur lining along the inside. Josephine admired them briefly before looking up at Ellarin, who was now staring intently at the landscape ahead of them.

 

“Thought it might help you with the cold,” she explained. With her head turned away it was harder for Josephine to hear her voice over the sound of the horses. “I picked them up in Val Royeaux.”

 

They must have been expensive, then. Nothing in Val Royeaux was cheap. “That’s very kind, but are you sure you wouldn’t prefer to use them instead? I can manage without.”

 

“No,” Ellarin said firmly, “I—I bought them for you in the first place.”

 

Josephine thumbed at the gloves in confusion. “For me? But you haven’t been to Val Royeaux in months.”

Ellarin gathered up the reins in her fist again before finally looking down at Josephine with an almost embarrassed expression. “I guess I forgot to give them to you.”

 

“But—”

 

“Anyway, let me know if they don’t fit. I’m sure we can pawn them in Jader if you’d like.”

 

And with that she urged her dracolisk forward, breaking out into a trot and moving well ahead of Josephine’s carriage without further comment. Josephine watched her go, wishing to call after her but not knowing what she would even say. She was too thrown off-guard by the fact that Ellarin had bought her a gift. It was an undeniably sweet gesture, although she wondered why it had taken Ellarin so long to give them to her. She ran her fingers along the surface of the glove’s golden inlays for a few moments before tugging them on. She flexed her fingers experimentally, testing the pull of the leather, and smiled at the warmth of them.

 

*

 

Josephine pulled up to the sawmill nine hours later exhausted, starving, and stiff beyond belief. She could feel the cold of the mountains in her very bones, and contorted her face and rubbed at her nose and cheeks in a futile attempt to coax some heat onto her skin. She wanted desperately to go inside and collapse onto whatever probably ancient mattress was inside, but she simply couldn’t force her legs to move. Instead she watched as Ellarin led her dracolisk into a makeshift stable that had been built into the side of the property. Josephine felt vastly inferior as she watched Ellarin move; she was walking stiffly, but at least she was still moving. And she’d done the past nine hours on horseback. Compared to that, what right did Josephine have to be so tired?

 

“Josephine?” Ellarin asked, suddenly by the carriage. “How do you feel?”

 

Josephine tried to make her expression as placid as possible, but she wasn’t sure how convincing it was. “I’m quite well, though I’ll be better once I’m inside. I’m simply ready for bed, I think.”

 

Ellarin watched her skeptically, but reached a hand out to help Josephine down onto the ground. “We should have stopped hours ago. You’re shaking.”

 

“Really, there’s no need to fuss.” She meant to say more, but lost the words as her feet hit the ground. She wobbled slightly, legs weak from disuse, and Ellarin immediately brought her hand to Josephine’s waist to steady her. The grip was light, but it was enough to know that she was being held up at all. Josephine leaned against Ellarin more fully, despite it feeling like an admittance of weakness. “I—thank you. I promise I’m fine.”

 

Ellarin said nothing and simply led Josephine to the front door, hand never leaving her waist. She opened the door and peered inside before looking down at Josephine. “This is the main house where we’ll be sleeping tonight. The mill is about a mile to the east; there’s lumber and a dropbox for Inquisition scouts there. After I stable your horses I’m going to go check it out, but I’ll be back.”

 

“You’re leaving?”

 

“I won’t be long.” She took her hand away from Josephine’s waist. “We need a fire, after all.”

 

That much was true, and Josephine didn’t have it in her to protest. “Well don’t take too long,” she said simply. “And do be careful.”

 

Ellarin gave another small smile before unhooking her heavy cloak and draping it over Josephine’s shoulders. It was much heavier than the one she was already wearing, and the warmth—from both the cloak itself and Ellarin’s residual body heat—enveloped Josephine immediately. “Be back soon.”

 

Josephine clutched at the cloak and watched as Ellarin made her way briskly to her coursers, making quick work of their bridles. She had half a mind to watch until the horses had been tended to and Ellarin was on her way, but a particularly biting gust of wind convinced her to go inside.

 

The house was large and very old, and Josephine could hear vague creaking upstairs whenever a heavy wind hit the exterior. In the dark it was hard to see everything inside, but she could make out the important parts: a fireplace in the center of the living room, a kitchen with wide windows facing the river, a staircase hugging the side wall leading up. It had likely been a pleasant enough place to live for the family who used to stay here. Josephine wondered if they had fled Ferelden due to Corypheus or the civil war, or whether it had been abandoned years before. For all her fatigue, she was grateful that Ellarin had agreed to let them travel this far. She had no doubt that the night here would be easier than one spent in a tent.

 

After a few minutes of fumbling around in the dark, Josephine made her way back to the front door and peeked outside. Her carriage stood alone, horses and Inquisitor both nowhere in sight. Josephine felt a pang of guilt at the thought of Ellarin trudging through the snow on her own. She knew that coming along would have only slowed things down, but she loathed feeling impotent. Removed from her fineries and connections and base of operations, she sometimes struggled to find ways to feel useful. Not that it was impossible.  

 

Josephine fastened Ellarin’s cloak righter around her shoulders  before taking a deep breath and stepping outside. Moving as quickly as she could manage given the snow and the aching in her legs, Josephine made her way to the back of the carriage and undid the lock. She had brought quite a lot of things with her, but she had only a few items in mind for this specific errand. She found them quickly enough; a silk bag here, a wooden box there, a change of clothes stuffed at the bottom of a satchel. Once she was sure she had everything, she closed the hatch again and made her way back into the house.

 

Safely inside, Josephine placed her things down and spread the contents of her bag out onto a table. A bevy of long-wicked candles rolled out, along with their stands. And most importantly, a flint. Within a few minutes, all the candles were lit and standing upright along the table. They provided an invaluable cluster of light in what was otherwise a pitchblack home. They didn’t do anything for her in terms of heat, but just being able to see her surroundings better calmed Josephine’s nerves immeasurably. Plucking one from the table, she made her way slowly up the stairs and gathered up every bit of bedding she could find — blankets, pillows, mattresses, all the like. Ellarin and her party had definitely stayed here before, if the deck of cards, empty potion bottles, and stashes of weapons in the closets were anything to go by. She even found various pages of Varric’s novels pinned to the walls with arrows.

 

After a few trips up and down the stairs, Josephine was finally able to get the downstairs arranged the way she wanted it. Two mattresses—perhaps a bit closer to each other than what would be considered proper—were in front of the fireplace, so that she and Ellarin could sleep close to the warmth. Each mattress was stacked with more than enough blankets, and there were pillows to spare. Josephine realized that she may have gone overboard, but she wanted to do what she could to make sure that they both slept comfortably. After the day they’d had, a peaceful sleep was well earned. Satisfied, Josephine settled onto her mattress and pulled the wooden box she’d brought towards her. It didn’t contain _every_ book she’d brought with her, but she had more than enough options. Already, Josephine could feel her eyes growing heavy with sleep, but she wouldn’t allow herself to slip into it.

She still had work to do.

 

Years ago, an old mentor in Orlais gave Josephine a word of advice that she would carry with her for the rest of her career: A good ambassador needed to have charm, patience, and sharp instincts; an _excellent_ ambassador needed to have all of that and a scholar’s mind to go with it. And Josephine, humility aside, was an excellent ambassador. She often thought that if she were ever to leave the world of politics, she might enjoy going into academia. She had always been a lover of history, and that passion served her well in her diplomatic roles. Understanding the history behind a nation and culture was like peering back at the inner workings of a grand machine; it was the foundation upon which all politics were built. Diplomatic relationships didn’t appear out of thin air — it was vital to know all the cards your opponent was playing with before either of you sat down for a match. Josephine had built her career on her ability to read those cards.

 

And for that reason, Josephine couldn’t help but feel that she—and by extension, the Inquisitor—was in grave danger of being outplayed. Tevinter was an embarrassing blind spot in her field of knowledge, and every second since that night around the war table had felt like a race against time to learn everything she could. This mission was important, and she refused to let it fall apart due to her own ignorance. Especially when she had invited herself along with such boldness.

 

It was the least she could do to go into a battle prepared. And just because her method of wartime preparation involved more treatises than it did trebuchets didn’t mean it was any less valid.

 

She slipped off her gloves, opened the most promising book of the bunch, and began to read.

 

*

 

Josephine could feel herself physically relax as she heard the front door open behind her. Ellarin stumbled inside, firewood stacked high in her arms. She kicked the door closed behind her and let out a few curses under her breath.

 

“I half expected you to be asleep when I got back,” she said. “How did you get a fire for those candles?”

 

Josephine motioned towards the flintlock by her feet. “I’m not entirely useless on my own, my Lady.”

 

“Clearly not.” Ellarin crossed the room and let the firewood in her arms fall to the floor unceremoniously. She glanced at Josephine and began to stack kindling into the fireplace. “What are you reading?”

 

“One of Dorian’s recommendations. A compendium on the formation of the Imperial Chantry.”

 

“Is that meant to put you to sleep?”

 

Josephine smiled as she marked her place and closed the book. “No, but it’s having that effect, I’m afraid. Did you find anything of use at the dropbox?”

 

Ellarin shucked her knapsack off and slid it across the floor to Josephine. “You tell me. That’s for tomorrow.”

 

Curious, Josephine undid the straps at the top and pulled out a rather large bottle filled with a dark liquid. “What is this?”

 

“That is Maraas-Lok,” Ellarin said pleasantly. She grabbed Josephine’s flint and started the fickle game of getting wood to light. “Strongest alcohol you’ll find around here. Looks like Bull left some extra behind the last time we were here.”

 

Josephine pulled the cork off and took a tentative whiff before recoiling back — the smell alone burned her nostrils, so she could only imagine how it tasted. “And he didn’t think to leave any food?”

 

“Doesn’t seem like it. I set some traps down on my way back, so hopefully we should have something caught when we wake up. And if not, ram are pretty easy to find around here. It won't be a problem.”

 

“I’ll leave it to you, then,” Josephine replied. “I’ve never been one for hunting.”

 

Ellarin shrugged and returned to the fire, sitting back on her heels and watching intently as one of her pieces of kindling finally spread to a larger log. The way she was handling the logs with her bare hands made Josephine unreasonably nervous, but she reminded herself not to fuss. The blaze began to spread, slowly but surely, and Josephine found herself mesmerized by the crackling of the fire and the sight of the flames gradually enveloping the slabs of wood. She and Ellarin sat like that, apart but still together, watching the fire in silence for an indeterminate amount of time.

 

Eventually Josephine got up, bringing one of the larger blankets with her. By that point Ellarin had stretched out, leaning back on her hands as the fire warmed her feet, and Josephine sat down to join her. Ellarin watched her get comfortable with an peculiar look in her eyes — something Josephine almost interpreted as tenderness. Although she may very well have been imagining that.

 

“You did well today, Josephine,” Ellarin said, tone soft. “I didn’t think we’d make it this far. You’re stronger than you look.”

 

The compliment came as a surprise, and sent a gentle glow blossoming throughout Josephine’s chest. “Thank you. I’m simply following your lead.”

 

“You shouldn’t do that. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

 

“Do any of us?”

 

Ellarin chuckled and looked back at the fire. “I suppose not. I always assumed that you did, though.”

 

Josephine smiled to herself, attributing the sudden heat on her face to the fire. She hesitated for a moment before pulling the blanket over herself and shifting her body closer to Ellarin.

 

“Would you mind if I leaned on you for a while, my Lady?” she asked, fighting back the faint trembling in her fingers. “I’ll confess that I’m tired, but I would like to stay up with you for a bit longer.”

 

Ellarin’s eyes snapped to meet Josephine’s immediately, surprise clear on her face. Josephine worried for a brief moment that she’d overstepped her bounds—that she’d read the signals wrong and was now being an imposition. That fear was quickly pushed aside by the, “Of course,” that she received in response.

 

Without another word, Josephine edged closer to lean against Ellarin’s side. Her eyes fluttered shut at the feeling of Ellarin pulling her closer and leaving her hand to rest at Josephine’s waist. Head on her Inquisitor’s shoulder, Josephine could almost forget the pain in her back and the hunger in her stomach. Ellarin was warm—far warmer than expected—and despite her best efforts, Josephine was asleep within minutes.


	4. Chapter 4

Jader was loud. That was the first thought Ellarin was struck with as she made her way through the bustling market in the direction of port. She shouldn’t have felt intimidated by the noise, and she’d deny it if she were asked about it, but she was at the very least uncomfortable. She could barely hear herself think over the call of merchants from their shops, the braying of pack animals as they lumbered down the road alongside pedestrians, and the general grating clamor that was bound to happen whenever hundreds of people were packed into one small square.

 

It didn’t help that she could feel the weight of curious eyes on her as she advanced through the crowd. Staring wasn’t anything she wasn’t used to, but this wasn’t the kind of staring she got in the Inquisition. People weren’t watching her in awe, waiting for her to do or say something— _anything_ —that would befit her lofty title and inspire those around her. Although of course she hated that staring, too. No, this time they were watching her with expressions that Ellarin recognized all too well. They were watching her with fear—poorly disguised fear, at that. She saw it in the way they gave her a wide berth, stepping into each other and hugging the wall to avoid brushing against her. The quickness with which they clutched at their things and tucked their valuables to the side as if they were in some sort of danger. The way that guards’ hands hovered at the blades at their belts when they saw her approach, not as a threat, but as a _just in case._

 

Here in this new city, Ellarin wasn’t the Inquisitor. She was just some Qunari brute with a sword on her back. She was the living embodiment of an unsheathed weapon or overcharged spell; she was a free radical, a fight waiting to happen, a threat just by the nature of existing. It didn’t matter that she was really none of those things—not here, not this time around. People just took one look at her horns and gray skin and decided they knew everything they would need to know about her. She was dumb, violent, a slave to promised coin or the Qun. They were assumptions that she’d lived with all her life.

 

They were wrong, of course, but here and now they were also very helpful. Her race made her intimidating but also anonymous. No one was looking at her face; they were watching her muscles and weapons. Some people were familiar with the Inquisitor’s likeness, but Ellarin still hadn’t seen a public sketching or bit of propaganda that did her justice. Her face was always off, horns pointed the wrong way, skin too light or too dark. No one had taken the time to draw her scars, so no one knew to look for them in person. Despite essentially manning the front of the Inquisition since its start, she was yet to be recognized as who she really was once she was out of her Inquisition armor and away from her known associates and companions.  She was banking on that anonymity now.

 

The city was packed with all sorts—humans, dwarves, elves, all bustling into each other and looking exceptionally busy and irritated. There were even a few Tal-Vashoth ambling about who regarded Ellarin with open interest, as if they were sizing her up. Likely gauging to see if she was new competition for contracts or trying to place which company, if any, she was in. It wasn’t usual to see a Tal-Vashoth (or a Vashoth in her case, although they wouldn’t know that on sight) operating alone, so the sight of a new face with weapons on her back no doubt piqued their curiosity. She nodded at each of them but didn’t stop to talk. What would there be to say, really?

 

Ellarin’s stomach grumbled. It was an unwelcome reminder that she hadn’t eaten properly since leaving Skyhold. It had been four days since then, and beyond the dried foods Josephine had packed in her carriage and the occasional caught rabbit Ellarin managed to catch, it had been a hard trip. She’d expected that there would have been plenty of food stored in the number of Inquisition halfway houses peppered throughout the Frostback, but they had all turned up nothing. A recent influx of pilgrims making their way to Skyhold had worn down the stores, it seemed. They would be replenished as soon as some of Harding’s scouts sent runners down with provisions, but that wouldn’t retroactively fill Ellarin and Josephine’s stomachs.

 

She had plenty of coin and hours to pass before their boat shipped out, and Josephine had already gone ahead to secure their things on board. She might as well find some food and catch her breath.

 

Finding food, as it turned out, was no challenge. The main road that led from the city’s main gates to the harbor took Ellarin straight through the center market. It was a large area; the layout was that of an open air collection of stalls, carts, and walking salesmen in the middle of the square with rows and rows of brick and mortar shops lining the side streets. The variety of items being sold were standard for a big city like this one, but still impressive—clothing, books, jewelry, art. Musicians plied their trade as well, winding seamlessly through the crowd as they sang and played their instruments, followed closely behind by companions collecting tips. Strange, exotic spices hung in the air, clashing at times with the smell of food and flowers and sweat.

 

Jader was the closest major Orlesian city to Ferelden, and it showed. It lacked the purposeful refinement of Val Royeaux, whose residents were primarily concerned with putting on airs and making it clear just how seriously they took themselves and their _games._ In contrast, Jader felt more lifelike. There were still some Orlesians walking around with idiotic masks and elaborate outfits on, but they weren’t the norm. If Val Royeaux were more like this, perhaps Ellarin wouldn’t hate it so much.

 

Still, Ellarin didn’t have much of an interest in sightseeing, and she couldn’t quite shake the feeling of claustrophobia that clung to her the deeper she pushed in the square. All the restaurants nearby were packed with patrons, and she had no desire in trying to squeeze her way into the middle of them just to find a meal. Better to find something quick and keep walking, then. Find somewhere further away from the market to sit and rest a bit.

 

A corner stall eventually caught her eye. It was modest, manned by a single woman behind a wooden stand. Fruit and dried meats were laid out in front of her. It was nothing fancy, but Ellarin wasn’t looking for fancy. All she needed was something to tide her over until her next actual meal and some rest, and the woman’s prices were cheaper than its neighboring shops.

 

There was a small group of people standing nearby, but they more or less cleared out as Ellarin approached. The woman, old and wizened with white hair framing her face like an unkempt mane, looked Ellarin up and down and scowled.

 

“Fifteen copper for a bundle,” she announced in lieu of a good afternoon.

 

“Your sign says ten copper,” Ellarin said, looking up at the hand-painted prices above the stall.

 

“It’s fifteen.” The woman’s expression and tone signalled that she wasn’t interested in haggling prices any further. Luckily for her, neither was Ellarin.

 

Without further argument, Ellarin put her coin down before grabbing a small burlap sack and beginning to stuff some fruit inside. She took her time inspecting each one; she was hardly a picky eater, but she was bringing some back for Josephine too. After their trip—with the the cold wind, scarce food, and admittedly lacking company on Ellarin’s part—Ellarin felt like spoiling her a little bit. She might as well start by making sure that none of her breakfast had bumps and bruises.

 

“Passing through?” the shopkeep asked, her voice cutting off Ellarin’s train of thought. She eyed the hilt of Ellarin’s sword over her shoulder and the axe dangling from her belt, and spat at the ground when Ellarin grunted and gave a terse nod. “Folks like you should pass through a bit _faster_.”

 

“Meaning?” Ellarin asked, although she knew perfectly well what the merchant meant.

 

She glared at Ellarin, trying to size up if she was really too dumb to understand or if she was just being difficult. “Bad for business, you are.”

 

“Can’t be too bad for business. You’ve got my coin, don’t you?”

 

The woman shook her head, pretending that she hadn’t heard the question although she dropped Ellarin’s money into her apron’s pocket all the same. “Scaring off my customers, armed to the teeth, and then you wonder why the guards run you off.”

 

“No one’s run me off yet.”

 

Another scowl, another glance at Ellarin’s weapons. “This was a respectable town before you lot started coming through.”

 

Ellarin looked at the woman passively before grabbing another apple and flinging a bit of bronze onto the top of her stall. She said nothing else, simply turned and let herself get swept up in the tide of people walking past. She ambled on in search of somewhere to sit and drink.

 

The woman’s words hadn’t gotten under Ellarin’s skin. She’d heard far worse in her time as a mercenary, and worse still from supposedly reverent Chantry mothers who balked at the idea of someone like her being seen as a vessel of Andraste. If anything, the shopkeep had been refreshing in comparison. Small-scale, uncomplicated racism. How quaint. Memories, unbidden but not unwelcome, came rushing back of the life she’d had before. A life full of women (and men) like the one in the market. It was fearful, angry folk like that who forced Ellarin to pick up a sword at the age of ten, determined to protect her family home in case anyone from the village down the way ever tried to make good on their threats. Swordplay turned into formal training which turned into a steady stream of work before Ellarin had the chance to choose any other path in life. By the time her commander picked up the infamous Conclave contract, Ellarin had been with the Valo-Kas for nearly seven years. All because people like that woman had hated her and her family on principle.

 

Some of her kind didn’t accept that sort of discrimination. If Shokrakar were here, Ellarin would have needed to drag him out of the market to stop him from overturning the woman’s stall and causing a scene. He’d ruined a good number of their company’s contracts that way in the past—going off on a potential patron all because they’d given him a bad look or made some snide comment about _Qunari brutes._ Ellarin’s mother had been much the same; she’d risked her, her father’s, and Ellarin’s lives in order to escape Par Vollen, and she wouldn’t allow anyone in their new homeland to imply that she was a brainwashed monster still loyal to the Qun. She didn’t get violent like Shokrakar—didn’t shout curses and lunge at her offender—but the fire in her eyes alone was often enough to send the average Free Marcher running for cover.

 

Ellarin had never been like that. She accepted early on that people would always hate her because of who she was, and she had no desire to rage against it. It was boring and futile, and all that really mattered at the end of the day was safety. People could talk as they pleased, as long as they knew that it _ended_ with talk. Plenty of townsfolk had gone home with broken bones after trying to lay hands on Ellarin or her parents, and she never apologized for it.

 

Lost in thought as she was, Ellarin was slow to realize that she’d walked further off the main road than planned. Looking around, she tried to get a sense of where she was. It was less shiny here and certainly less crowded, both of which suited her just fine. The smooth, polished walkways of her original path had given way to uneven cobblestone, and now there were more homes than shops hugging the street. There were still quite a few inns and taverns, though, and Ellarin slipped into the one which looked coziest. It was for the most part empty, and the man behind the bar pointed her towards a back alley behind the building when she asked for somewhere even more private. She ordered a small meal of bread and venison and a pint of ale before stepping out into the alley and sitting down at a rickety table and barstool.

 

The food was simple, but after days of next to nothing it tasted like a dream. The ale was even better—were he here, Bull would have laughed in her face for drinking something so much weaker than their usual fare, but that hardly mattered. Her drink was gone before she even started to touch her food.

 

Just as she began to well and truly relax, Ellarin felt a body in close proximity to hers. She tensed, fingers flicking for her axe, before her new company crossed into her line of vision and came to sit at the stool opposite hers. Warily, still ready to draw her weapon if needed, she looked him over. He was a man. A young man. Short and thin, couldn’t have been older than twenty, and had a crop of messy blond curls that fell just shy of his brows. He glanced over his shoulder before speaking next, and even then he kept his voice too quiet for someone inside or nearby to overhear.

 

“Inquisitor,” he said. “Nice to see you’ve made it to town.”

 

“Puck?” Ellarin asked. Her point of contact in Jader.

 

He nodded and flashed her with a toothy grin. “Good to finally meet you.” He stuck his hand out for Ellarin to shake. “Officially, anyway. I’ve been an agent since Haven, so I’ve seen _you_ around plenty.”

 

Ellarin tried to remember him, to place him in one of her memories from Haven or Skyhold. If he’d been with the Inquisition for that long, there was no way they hadn’t crossed paths at least once. And if he knew where to find her in this random back alley ale house, then he’d almost certainly been trailing her since she arrived in Jader. But despite knowing that, she still felt like she was seeing him for the first time. Was he that good, or was she just getting rusty? How had she let herself walk all through town without once noticing that she was being followed? Good spies didn’t tend to get recognized, she supposed. His ability to escape her notice was probably a testament to his skills, if not still a little unnerving.

 

Puck gestured at the food that Ellarin had laid out. “Got some for me?”

 

She pushed her plate forward, watching him closely. “If you want.”

 

She leaned back in her chair as he broke off a piece of the bread and tucked some meat inside. She was struck by how young he seemed—perhaps a bit _too_ young to be in this particular line of work. Ellarin wasn’t one to micromanage Leliana and her hires, but she wondered how Puck had come across spy work at all. Maybe if Ellarin got to know him better one day, she would ask. Not now, though. If he were taking the risk of revealing himself and speaking to her semi-publicly, then that meant he had important information for her.

 

“So, what’s the situation?” Ellarin asked finally.

 

Puck looked up from his food, eyes bright and clear. “Your ship’s here, but it’s not going anywhere.”

 

“What do you mean? Has departure been delayed?”

 

“Everything has,” he said simply. He looked back down at his hands, picking at his bread some more before continuing on. “Storms off the Waking Sea have delayed most all of the ships coming in. Everything that’s already in port is being held for the time being.”

 

Ellarin frowned. She already felt bone-weary after the journey from Skyhold, and the news of yet another complication to deal with was the last thing she needed to hear. “How long has this been going on?”

 

“Couple days. Traders in town are kicking up a right fuss about it, but a spice shipment from Val Chevin already overturned off the coast and no captain wants to risk their crew.”

 

Storms. Of course. How appropriate that Ellarin would bungle one of her first real diplomatic missions not because of any misstep or oversight of her own, but because of the damn weather. Depending on how long this lasted, she and Josephine could easily arrive in Cumberland to find their magister friends already gone. If news of the storms was making the rounds in Jader, they’d probably heard of it in Cumberland, too. None of the Tevinters could blame her for being late over something that clearly wasn’t her fault, could they? Maybe, maybe not. This was all a delicate business, and any delay in schedule might spook them, regardless of the reason for it.

 

Ellarin sighed and rubbed absentmindedly at one of her horns. Part of her wanted to call the whole operation off here. This already felt like far more trouble than it was worth, and she could think of at least ten things offhand that she’d rather be doing. But that was just idle irritation. She knew that if she changed course and brought them back to Skyhold now, Josephine might never forgive her for it.

 

“Do you have any idea when we’ll be shipping out, then?” she asked. “We can’t wait here forever.”

 

“Hard to say. It’s up to your captain.”

 

“And who’s our captain?”

 

“Garran Lehoux. Orlesian.” Puck reached into his pocket and handed Ellarin a copy of the ship’s manifest. Some basic information about Captain Lehoux was included on the back. “He’s been based out of Jader for a few years as the main transporter for a local winery. His normal operation’s usually hauling wine to and from Cumberland, but he recently got a bigger ship and started taking passengers along for the extra coin.”

 

“Who are the extra passengers this time around?”

 

“None.” Puck smirked, looking very much like Sera after she’d finished setting up a particularly irritating prank and was waiting for the other shoe to drop. “Or I should say, none _now._ He had five extras booked, but I’ve heard that they all ended up having to cancel their trips. Personal reasons. Who’s to say?”

 

“Personal reasons,” Ellarin repeated, not sure if she even wanted to know the details.

 

“Bad for them, lucky for us,” Puck said brightly. “You, me, and Montilyet are the only non-crew passengers. Apparently Lehoux’s been known to pick up last minute stragglers on the docks, but there’s nothing I can do about that. Maker willing, it’ll be an empty ship.”

 

“And if it’s not?”

 

“Shouldn’t matter too much. Just keep your head down and don’t flash your Anchor hand around anyone,” he winked. “I’ll be keeping an eye in case there’s trouble or you need something, but my cover is as a deckhand. Mostly I’ll be scrubbing floors and being inconspicuous. So try not to need me.” Almost as an afterthought, he added, “And your cover’s all set. Montilyet’s a merchant from Montfort and you’re her hired muscle. No one should pay you any mind.”

 

Ellarin simply sat forward and pushed the rest of her plate towards Puck. Optimism aside, she knew there was a world of difference between _should_ and _would._ In her experience, people paid her plenty of mind whether she wanted them to or not.

 

“I want to talk to Lehoux about this. See when he’s planning on shipping out.”

 

“I don’t know how likely you are to catch him. He was on deck this morning, but he hasn’t been at port for hours. Eyes have him visiting family on the edge of town. Looked like he was carrying clothes for the night, so you probably won’t catch him back at the ship until tomorrow at the earliest.”

 

Almost as an afterthought, Ellarin realized that Josephine was probably wandering about the docks quite confused as to why their ship was shuttered and abandoned. “Regardless, I need to go see the ship,” she said as she pushed out her chair and stood.

 

“What for?”

 

“Josephine’s at the harbor, so I figure I should tell her the bad news. Are you coming?”

 

Puck shook his head and Ellarin immediately felt foolish for asking. He gestured for her to wait a moment as he fished something else out of his pocket. Once he’d grabbed it he dangled it in front of him, letting Ellarin appraise it before he tossed it over. It was a long gold key with a small roll of parchment tied to the end. Unfurling the paper just a bit, Ellarin saw that an address was scrawled onto it in graceful looping letters. She didn’t ask Puck what it was, electing to simply tuck it away and cock an eyebrow at him.

 

“Your lodgings for the night,” he explained. “Courtesy of Marquise Emmiard. Make sure you’re not being followed when you go and try not to make too much of a mess when you’re there. But it’s yours and the Ambassador’s until your ship leaves. I hope it’s to your liking.”

 

“If it has a proper bed it’s to my liking already,” Ellarin said, chancing a small smile. “See you soon, Puck. I suppose you know where to find me if you need me.”

 

“That I do, Inquisitor,” he said smoothly. “‘Til then.”

 

Ellarin turned and left the alley, off to find Josephine and—hopefully—get her first good night’s rest in days. Given the journey ahead, she imagined that she would need it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come hang at https://antivanarmada.tumblr.com/

**Author's Note:**

> I can be found procrastinating at https://antivanarmada.tumblr.com/


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